


heartbreak in your hands

by hannieks



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, honestly idk i’m too tired to really tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 18:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18036284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannieks/pseuds/hannieks
Summary: my swan song to the show that held my heart for two years. a collection of every unpublished draft i have for voltron: legendary defender.(title is from the song gasoline by troye sivan)





	heartbreak in your hands

**Author's Note:**

> just wanna say hi to my gf if she’s reading this. ily loads   
> and also hi chloe i’m terrible at replying to u but ur my writing bud xx   
> also tw for depression and unreality. please stay safe

Pidge hasn’t slept at all when the alarm begins to blare, and she groans as loud as she dares before forcing herself to her feet. She may be depressed beyond belief, but paladin duties have always overshadowed every other concern. 

 

But as she stumbles into the control room to find no threat, only two disappointed Alteans and four sleepy paladins. Well, two - despite the new rules the arms of Voltron barely slept, and Shiro seemed to be exhausted at any given time of day. 

 

The godforsaken rules. After Keith had collapsed mid-training session Lance had been suspiciously vocal about reintroducing a normal sleep schedule. Coran and Hunk agreed immediately with Lance, as always, and Shiro always agrees with Allura, who agrees with Coran. 

 

They shuffle into a formation that vaguely resembles Voltron as Allura begins her usual spiel, all ‘Voltron’ this and ‘Empire’ that, stuff she’s heard enough times to memorise. What hasn’t ever happened, though, is the looks her teammates keep giving her. 

 

Well, excluding that time she’d fallen asleep in food goo and forgotten about it until Shiro pointed it out the next day. (She knows Lance has pictures. She  _ knows.)  _

 

Pidge ignores it until Keith joins in too - which means she’s either got an enemy on her head or something is seriously wrong. 

 

“What?” she says, interrupting Allura’s mid sentence, and it’s a few seconds before Hunk speaks. 

 

“You don’t look so good..”

 

“Yeah!” Lance pipes up, finishing for his friend like he always does. “You sleeping, or are ya spending your time coding again?” 

 

His tone and posture screams playful (the same way everything about him seems to scream at constant-airhorn levels of annoying,) but there’s pain in his eyes, enough that her gut swirls with guilt. On closer inspection the others share the same look, even Coran - who’s never called her by her name in the eighteen months they’ve been out here.

 

She does what she’s programmed herself to do in times like these, and flees. 

 

Pidge hears nothing but the blood rushing in her ears and the click of her shoes in the hallway until her door snaps shut. Then there’s only silence.   

 

\--

 

She doesn’t deserve it, the unconditional love of her teammates. She doesn’t deserve the hyper-advanced space castle, or the sentient war lion that comes with it, or the hordes of technology in her bedroom. 

 

Not when her family are still out there. Not when they could be in danger right now, as she lies motionless in the warmth of her bed, all seventeen algorithms she’s developed to help her search left on their individual ‘failure’ screens. Not when they could be dead.

 

(“No, Pidge!” cries a voice that starts off as Matt’s, then distorts into Lance’s as it continues, “you gotta stay positive!”)

 

In this somehow endless moment, a perpetually elongated piece of time where it’s neither day nor night, she needs this. Pidge can ignore the self-hatred itching underneath her skin when she’s too exhausted to think, move, function. 

 

It’s all she can do to pay her family back for the suffering her fear has cost them. 

 

\--

 

Pidge jerks awake from her ten minute nap to the sound of someone knocking on her door. She knows exactly who it is by the fact that there’s three short knocks, all loud enough to wake the dead, and also because she can sense a fellow gay in distress from a mile away. 

 

She takes a moment to close the programs she left running and fix her glasses, before calling him in. 

 

Keith peers around her door, before walking over to her with his stoic face - on of his three facial expressions. He has a bowl of goo in his hands, and as soon as she takes it his arms cross over his chest. 

 

He’s uncomfortable. Nervous, but keeps eye contact. Not unusual for him, but what surprises her is the lack of dark circles under his eyes. 

 

“You, uh, missed breakfast. Again.”

 

“Yeah, sorry.” 

 

There’s a two second pause. Keith fidgets where he stands, and concludes that her lack of an immediate response means she wants him gone, because he spins round and starts walking. It’s obvious to her who he’s been spending time with if such a small pause means something negative. 

 

Pidge briefly considers trying to be tactful about her next question, but Keith is the sort of guy who wouldn’t know what tact was if it punched him in the face. 

 

“Hey!” It’s rushed, partly from awkwardness but mostly because he’s already halfway out her door, and he freezes before turning back around to face her. 

 

“How come you’re sleeping better?” 

 

_ That  _ takes him by surprise. “How did you… never mind. Well- I-“ 

 

Pidge waves her hand, urging him to continue. 

 

“Uh. Lance gave me some… tips.”

 

“Sure,” she replies, “and I’m straight.”

 

Despite the awkward horror show that is their conversation Keith’s lips twitch into a ghost of a smile. “Maybe if you start sleeping, I’ll tell you.” 

 

“Wait!-“

 

He’s gone. Pidge curses to herself. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i’d tell u to catch me on twitter but i can’t remember my handle right now so i’ll update it soon. thanks for reading!


End file.
